


Sun, Moon, Eclipse

by ShippingsandDeamons



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: implied rape, post second game, wibbly-wobbly timey wimey shinanagins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingsandDeamons/pseuds/ShippingsandDeamons
Summary: There is more to the power of nothingness than simply returning something to zero, for everything once came from zero. Loptr found his loophole, will humanity be able to stop him a second time?





	1. End of the Beginning

Groaning in agony, Blader plucked his monocle from the dirt and hazardous stumbled to his feet before placing the lens over his left eye. His body swayed from side to side drunkenly as he remained upright on unstable legs for a heartbeat, after which spasm overtook his trembling form as Loptr tried in desperation to escape him. He refused to let the incarnation of evil go, not when their mutual end was so close now. He tightened his mental grip of the other’s soul, then watched through tired eyes as the demi god’s astral self struggled in the air for a moment before dispersing entirely. A dark chuckle escaped his thought at the sight of his small victory.

This was the end for both of them, and god damn it he was going to make certain the half diety perished alongside him. It was all he could do now; this was the only way to wright his past wrong now with what little time remained. Death was closing in on them, and would claim them in due time. He could feel it in the growing weight of his old body.

“Their” little gamble had failed as predicted, and now it was time to pay the price of their defeat. Behind him, The petrified head of Paradiso’s god, Jubileus, lay half buried in the earth. It was all that remained of “their” attempt at using the holy Dea to restart the cycle anew. It had been more than five long centuries since last he was able to even think clearly, let alone act of his own accord. Thankfully those past final moments would soon become his daughter’s last memories of him. She would finally get to see the man he had once been, the true him, what he’d been before Loptr’s evil had corrupted him into the warped monster she’d previously wared against. Now, in his final moment, he had the power to wrestle back his self-control.

“Thank you, my dear sweet child, thank you for keeping your promise.”

She might not have made said promise yet, but she’d fulfilled it none the less. As he’d begged her to, she’d ended him after he’d strayed from the light. In his final hour, the last of the lumen sages could die with his sage’s pride, and the memories of the woman his daughter had grown into. But most of all, he’d take the worst prime evil of this chaotic world down with him. He was certain he’d be able to face Rosa again in the afterlife, look her in the eyes with no regrets.

Staring up at a clear daytime sky, he let his fears and regrets melt away like winter snowing in the following spring. He’d done what he could with what little power he’d had. Sages normally were taken to Paradiso because of their pacts with heaven’s residents, but a part of him wondered if that would truly be his fate. Well, if he ended up in Inferno, he’d be reunited with Rosa. Hell wouldn’t be so bad with her by his side again.

“I will not die here, not now! Not like this!” Loptr hissed in the back of his mind.

The prophet rose up like a thunderstorm and began raging against the restraints that held him imprisoned in the sage’s body, clawing at his mind frantically, like a cornered animal. The elder man grimaced in pain, but held fast against the assault. He’d vowed that day (or would vow that coming day, as it had technically not come to pass just yet) that the prophet would see never see another era outside of him; only an endless circle of time, and it was a vow he would not break under any circumstances. He would hold fast and endure, his iron will was stronger than Loptr’s.

Only this wasn’t a battle of wills. Balder quickly realized the demi god’s aim wasn’t at freedom, but the right eye. The right eye of light, one of two eyes Aisir had used to shape the world. The last and most beloved of lumen treasures that Balder himself held within. It was the complementary opposite of the Umbra witch's left eye of darkness. The treasure his daughter had.

Ice flooded his veins. 

His daughter, despite being both an umbra witch and the left eye’s chosen overseer, still held lumen blood within her veins. Hypothetically, it might be possible for her to also inherit the right eye when he died and become the overseer of both light and darkness. Light was just as much of her birthright as darkness, even if she walked the path of the Umbra.

Was that Loptr’s plan? To escape death by changing hosts along with the right eye? He wouldn’t allow that, Cereiza had suffered enough because of him. Gritting his teeth, Balder poured every bit of magical energy he had left into one final spell; a seal that would keep the right eye within him, and thus prevent Loptr from escaping. The right eye of light would fade with him, even if the world had to suffer because of it.

As he cast the spell, he felt Loptr smile. A chill frosted his spine, horror taking hold in his mind. The prophet overpowered him somehow, strangling his wits in a grip like a vice. Dread turned his gut to lead as the world crashed into blackness. Withing his mind as the last vestiges of consciousness faded, he heard the other laugh.

He’d played right into the demi god’s hands once again.

 

Returning to awareness, the icy reality of what he’d done hit worse than his daughter had during their ‘first’ fight. There was Loptr’s trickery and triumph, the dread that in the end victory was wrenched from his grasp, all of it hit him at once. Then he noticed something; he was still alive. He’d been on the edge of death, they both had, so why was he now still alive? More so, why did he feel younger?

Gone was the lingering joint pain that had settled in with aging into an oldish man. In fact, he felt more limber than he had in centuries. Magic might keep them alive for far longer than mere humans, but neither witches nor sages were exempt from the trials of growing into old men and woman, and his body had been proof of that. So why then did the scares of time vanish?

Blearily, he surveyed his surroundings as best he could. He quickly found that his arms and legs were bound by some unseen force, splayed out to both sides. He had a full range of motion in his hands and feet, and was even able to wiggle each limb. It was only his limbs that were bound, the rest of his body could move just fine.

Pale blue-white extended out as far as the eye could see in all directs, both vertical and horizontal. The ground was nothing more than some unseen force that his immobile legs sat on. His sealing spell had worked, it seemed. There was that, at least.

“Ahh, you’ve finally awakened from your nap.” An all too familiar voice purred amused.

Twisting his neck and torso, Blader crained his chin over his right shoulder and looked behind him. Loptr stood behind him. Looking nearly exactly as he had back on Fimbulventer, he was missing his ornamental blue and gold robe, leaving him in the small cloth he wore beneath it. The half god’s smile was nothing more than a twitch of the corners of his mouth, but it still sent shivers down his spine all the same.

Balder looked down at himself and truly took in his body. His robes were the same ones he’d worn when leading the Ithavoll organization, but his body was now back in it’s prime, the same it had been when he’d taken up the burden of trapping Loptr within him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Balder snarled. “You should be nothing more than a ghost and we both should be dead!”

“It’s simple; I used my last remaining ability to stave off our mutual demise after you cast your sealing spell.” Loptr replied, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“What? That shouldn’t be possible!” Balder snapped.

Hadn’t the younger half used Aesir's true power to destroy the eyes?

“My other half explained that our true power is nothingness. Aesir’s power is indeed nothing, but it is more than just returning things to zero, the power he retained. I was able to keep the power that made the eyes of the world, the power to create anything from nothing. Using the time bought by you sealing us, I was able to use my trump card and return us to the state you see now.” He explained. “I recreated my body, and thus indirectly restored yours to it’s prime. Your welcome.”

The half-god began walking towards him, in slow, meandering steps as though he had all the time in the world. Depending on how long Balder had been unconscious, that was a very real possibility. Frantically, he began struggling against his invisible restraints in a desperate attempt to break even one arm free. If he could do that, he could materialize his weapon and use it to potentially free the rest of his body, maybe even fight back.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. The tables had been turned completely, and he was now at the mercy of Loptr. Fingers, warm and smooth, ghosted up the sides of his neck and head in a mockery of a lover’s touch, then a pointer finger twirled a lock of his platinum hair around itself. All he could do was glare at his captor, the other simply smiled further at him.

“I really must thank you for casting that spell of yours, without it, I wouldn’t have had the time to pull us from death’s door otherwise.” He murmured almost lovingly.

Icy dread crashed over him like a frigid ocean wave. He’d been played like a fucking fiddle.

“And so, to show just how thankful I am, I’ll give you what you desire most.” The prophet purred in his ear.

The pain of being manipulated so easily evaporated, replaced by fear. Shock flitted across Balder’s face, drawing a low chuckle from Loptr.

“You and I were practically one for half a millennium, did you really believe that I wouldn’t be able to see your thoughts and wishes?”

The sage’s body was shoved forward into the ground, forcing him onto his chest and knees. His arms and legs were practically limp. And equally as useless to him. Fear bloomed in his belly as the demi god striped him, leaving him defenseless and bare in more ways than just the obvious. He managed to chock back a cry and hold his tongue as several fingers wormed their way into him, touching places only Rose had touched before. His silence seemed to spur his captor on. A hand slid itself over his stomach, and finally the reality of the situation set in.

There was a saving grace to all of this; Loptr would be unable to escape the seal. Not even with the help of its caster. He clung to this fact like a lifeline, enduring his captor’s torment with all he had, even when he was unable to swallow back his tongue as his body betrayed him.


	2. Post parting Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki returns.

The last thing he saw as the world faded away was the faces of Bayonetta and Luka. For all that the former acted as the definition of confidence and womenly strength, he could see the sadness in her eyes. Luka, who didn’t know him as long as Bayonetta did, still looked saddened to see him go. At least he was lucky enough to have people see him off.

His situation was a little like dying, but he wasn’t really going to die. It was more that he was just taking a break from reality in the form of not existing. It would only be for a ‘little while’. Loki, the self-proclaimed better half of Aesir, had no regrets as his body faded away in a myriad of blue fairy lights. He would be back someday, this wasn’t permanent. He was still half of the god of chaos, even if his ‘eyes’ no longer existed.

Time became disjointed as he ceased to exist, the concept no longer affected him. He existed as nothing, and thus could not change. A moment like this could be an eon in the human realm, and vice versa. When he was finally thrown back into the cogs of existence, he had no idea how long he’d been absent. It was like stepping out of a river in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing for him to use as an indicator of how much time had passed.

Thankfully the process of it all was very similar to walking through an open door, in a hand full of steps he was no longer a part of nothing, and was back in Purgatorio. He found himself standing in the middle of a grimy alleyway, not all that different from how he’d come to the first time around. At least this time he had all his memories. He looked the same as he had back on Fimbulventr, unsurprisingly. He didn’t recognize anything, so it was likely he was nowhere near the holy mountain.

Throwing his hood over his head, the young demigod began walking down the alleyway. He wondered if Bayonetta had seen the sign of his return. If she hadn’t, then this would be an extra surprise for her. First, he had to figure out where on earth he was, and also figure out when he was. Emerging into a concrete sidewalk, he found that the buildings were of a familiar architect. He’d half been expecting over a century to have passed while he was away, but by the look of things, maybe it hadn’t even been over a week.

In Purgatorio, regular humans couldn’t even see him, let alone intrude upon his affairs. Pulling out a card from his pocket, he pooled a bit of magic together in preparation for a spell. It was a simple little trick that would tell him how long he’d been missing from the world’s affairs. With a flick of his wrist, the spell was cast and all he had left to do was wait.

3 days.

Loki came to a halt, blinking in surprise. He’d only been away for a measly three days? That wasn't even half a week. Staring up at the sky, he began walking again. He had steeled himself beforehand expecting it to be decades or even centuries. A part of him sagged in relief. They might have promised to see each other again, but things weren’t so simple. In the end, the people he knew were not as immortal as he was.

This meant he could even see Luka again. He knew that unlike Bayonetta, Luka had a shorter, much more finite lifespan. He’d honestly been expecting to find that he’d returned long after the man had passed away from old age. He might not have known the journalist for as long as he’d known the Umbran witch, but he’d been there to help when Loki had needed it the most. He might be a bit of a pervert, but he was still a good guy. A guide feeling bubbled up inside of him at the prospect of surprising the older man.

Then all at once, his jolly good mood was shattered by a wave of dread waterfalling down his back. He felt Loptr’s eyes on him, glinting with malicious promise. It felt like his other half was watching him like a hungry cat watching a mouse. How ironic that he could transform into a flying squirrel. It lasted only a moment, but the sensation left him unnerved.

“Easy now mate,” He muttered to himself. “he's dead now, Balder took him down with him.”

He grimaced at the thought of the time-shifted sage. The guy didn’t deserve his fate, but the selfless rarely got their happy endings.

Shivering, Loki tugged his hood down a little further, the urge to find Bayonetta intensified. Even if it was all in his head, he allowed himself to look over his shoulder, if only to calm himself down.

 

Cereza nursed a small, fruity martini as she mulled over her thoughts. She was certain the card she’d seen downtown was one of Loki’s, even if she hadn’t gotten a good look at it. Was it a sign that he would be coming back soon? Or did it mean he was already back among the living? She knew the card had meant something, she’d stake her pride as an umbra witch on it!

Quietly she drained her glass of the remaining pink liquid and huffed. Why was she even thinking about it? He’d promised to return and see her again, and she was holding him to it.

“Penny for your thought? Or would you rather have another round?” Rodin asked.

“I’ll go with another round,” She replied, voice carrying her usual dry and sassy charm.

She wasn’ in a very hospitable mood, not after losing sleep because the denizens of heaven had no sense of time. God she really needed that drink. The dark-skinned demon shot her a sympathetic look and he picked up her tiny martini glass daintily between two fingers that were both equally bigger and thicker than it. With his other hand he reached over and picked up a bottle housing her favored liquor.

The gates of Hell was quiet. Besides the music playing on repeat, the only noise was from Enzo snoring in the corner. She came to this bar precisely because of the usual quiet. That and Rodin was quite the weaponsmith with a pension for making her only the finest of angel slaying weapons. And they also doubled as effective demon slaying weapons, as she learned from past experience.

“Any knew from our friends down under? Paradiso has been more than too active recently.” She inquired.

“Surprisingly nothing, our hell dwelling friends have been unusually quiet recently, about the time Paradiso started acting up too.” Rodin replied, placing her drink down in front of her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. When he didn’t respond further, she sighed and knocked back her drink in one gulp, placing it down like a shot glass.

“Think I’d better call it quits here, Jeanne doesn’t like it when I come home drunk.” She said, getting up.

Instead of having her drinks end up on Enzo’s tab like she normally did, Bayonetta paid for her drinks herself. Sauntering on out of the bar and passing into Purgatorio, she felt the midwinter chill nip at her skin through her hair. She wasn’t in the friendliest of moods, she had decided to head home to her shared apartment with Jeanne as soon as possible. She managed to go three full city blocks without angels jumping down from heaven to ‘greet’ her.

The short-lived peace ended with an angelic cry piercing the air and bouncing off the walls. Muttering a few choice words under her breath, she ran towards the source of the cry. Vaulting gracefully over a schoolyard fence, she was greeted by the sight of a flock of applauds hoarding around a lone figure. They were too far away for her to glean anything other than the fact that they were small and most likely a child. How someone like that ended up in Purgatorio baffled her.

She blasted one of the angels going for the person’s unguarded back with a few rounds from her pistols. Its friend was reduced to a pile of bloody feathers with similar ease. She faltered a bit when she saw the familiar yellow sleeveless hoody and baggy orange cargo pants. The cherry on top was watching them best an angel with an all to familiar blue and gold backed card. She almost broke out laughing.

“We meet again little one.” She said, shooting an angel from the sky.

“Indeed we do, love,” They replied. “Long time no see.”

Loki shot her a smile. The two fell into a familiar routine, covering each other's backs even if Bayonetta didn’t need it. It had been a little over three days since she’d last seen him, but now it felt like she’d waited an eternity. The battle ended shortly, thanks in part to Bayonetta’s experience with giving angels hell.

“Now then, care to accompany me home for a nice long chat?” She asked.

“You know what? That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in regards to the story's timeline, Bayo 2 happened about 6 months or so after Bayo 1, and this takes placed 3 days or so after Bayo 2.


	3. Gathering Darkness

Balder lay curled up tightly on whatever force counted as the ground in the spatially disjointed ‘pocket’ area that made of the seal the held them both captive. Though it seemed he was more captive and Loptr. The prophet was nowhere in sight at the moment, something strange to think about when considering the lawless nature of the seal, but not impossible by any means. Because of the nature of the sealing spell, the pair were separated from time, thus time did not have any hold on them for the time being. They were no different from insect in amber in that regard.

There was no real way to indicate the passage of time outside, beyond one instance. At one point the power of the right eye had flared up, scalding his mind an body with a white-hot pain that had caused him to pass out. It was the signal at his past self had arrived, and the right had been passed on to him, albeit rather forcefully. Loptr had taken a level of pleasure from his suffering. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed after that, the conflict could still be going on for all he knew.

How was Cereza doing? It was a question that often crossed his mind, giving that all he could do while trapped was think. He barely knew her, he’d been forcefully denied from her life for nearly all of it, from one circumstance to the next. He couldn’t even speculate beyond killing angels, and that much came from the understanding of Umbra culture he’d acquired from Rosa. For all intent and purpose, he only had snapshots of his daughter for memories, nothing substantial to go off of. The last memory he had of her was after Jeanne had freed her from Jubileus’ left eye, looking so much like her mother to the point the resemblance was painfully uncanny.

“Lost in thought again?” Loptr’s smooth voice asked.

Balder tensed. The prophet’s presence always boded ill for him, and now would not be any different. As if proving his point, unseen hands came to grip his arms and legs, pulling him out of his curled up posture out onto his stomach. He struggled against his bond in a fruitless endeavor, and as always it proved to be useless. At this point, it was just desperate insanity. Real fingers ghosted down his flanks on either side, he didn’t have to see the demigod’s face to know Loptr was smiling.

“It’s a shame I can’t grand your wish in this place, being outside of time, but I have ensured that you will get what you've longed for in the end, without me having to be there.” He murmured, whispering the last part directly into his prisoner’s ear. “Time might not be able to touch us, but I’ve made due.”

The Lumen sage beneath him began trying to thrash about in an attempt to dislodge the man kneeling, practically looming, over him. But to no avail. Loptr’s knees were on either side of his torso, braced in such a way that had Balder’s chest pinned under him. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, the demigod shoved his head down, leaving him only able to buck his lower half, which in turn only placed him in an even worse position when his invisible restraints cracked down on movement.

Once more he was stripped bare, left powerless and at Loptr’s mercy. For the most part, he was able to swallow his tongue, at least to start. The demigod always found ways to break his silence, the former even seemed to spur him on. He’d given up on fighting back his tears, even if that left him forced to endure the sensation of Loptr lapping them up from his cheeks as though they were the sweetest of ambrosia. Fingers feathered across his belly, drawing a slight whimper from him. It was Loptr’s way of reminding him of what was to come should they be freed, at this point saying if would have been a delusion.

He prayed that freedom would never come, even if it meant an eternity of suffering.

 

Bayonetta found herself standing in the hallway, just within the threshold of the living room, in the middle of the night. Loki was fast asleep on the couch wrapped up in a quilt she’d found in some second-hand store. They’d found a set of ratty clothes at the bottom of Jeanne’s closet he was now using as pajamas. The aforementioned woman was asleep in their shared bed, leaving her as the only one away in the house. She’d been more than a little relieved that her partner was very willing to add a third member to the household. He’d become a kid brother of sorts to them, that made it easy for him to fit right in.

Quietly, she removed herself from her place up against the wall and moved herself into the kitchen. She was used to being wide awake in the dead hours of the night, she often fought angels during that time. It was the safest point in the day to fight angels in a graveyard without wrapping anyone else up in the affair, except for Enzo. Rodin didn’t count. Still, being away at this hour, when she was normally sleeping like the dead in bed, it left the house in an eerie sort of gloom.

Silent as a gentle breeze she reached up and grabbed a random ceramic mug. It was a white cylinder shaped thing with black cats painted across the circumference. It was a tongue in cheek gift from Luka, he’d gotten it while traveling. Right before the microwaved could ding, she popped it open and plucked her hot water from inside. There was a box of peppermint tea bags already sitting innocently on the counter. Within a minute she was sipping at unsweetened peppermint tea leisurely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter.

While she enjoyed her tea, the thoughts that had woken her up returned. Thoughts of her father, Balder. Before the events up on Fimbulventr and the battle with Loptr, his actions had been nothing more to her than the plotting of a man too far gone to be sane. Oh how right she’d been. Now that she knew the truth, her gut clenched. He’d begged her to kill him should he succumb to Loptr’s evil, and she’d fulfilled that promise in the end. Even if she made the promise after she killed him. He was technically a stranger, acquaintance at best, meaning she hardly knew him. She wasn’t sad exactly, not about killing him at least, and yet here she found herself mourning the man the world had denied her the chance to meet. A part of her wondered what would be different if they’d gotten the chance to be proper father and daughter.

“My, child,” A voice rasped in her head. A voice she was all too familiar with. “please-“

Balder’s voice cut into oblivion as abruptly as it came. Shock caused her grip on the mug to loosen, it slipped from her hands and it the floor with a thud. The previous silence made the noise sound louder than it probably was. Heart hammering in her chest, a string of curses slipped past her lips and she knelt down to retrieve her mug. Thankfully the cup wasn’t harmed at all by the fall, though peppermint tea now pooled on the kitchen floor. Placing her tea mug in the once empty sink, she grabbed a dish towel and began moping up her mess.

Despite it being in the dead of night, or maybe because it was so late, the sound didn’t disturb any of the house’s sleeping occupants. Not so much as a single soul stirred awake.


End file.
